Mommy knows best
by Ella Inspired
Summary: When Stella becomes a cheerleader to prove Ray wrong,Charlotte Yamada knows that its only a matter of time.


**Lemonade Mouth**

**Mommy knows best**

**By Ella Lavender**

_I don't own Lemonade Mouth or its characters_

(^^)

Charlotte Yamada was not just an eco-warrior, not just a woman and not just the wife of a successful doctor on the verge of finding a cure against cancer. Charlotte Yamada was a mother.

And as a mother, she knew more about what went on in her children's heads more than they did.

She liked to think that her motherly instincts were at work, constantly reading beneath the surface of her children's constant facades.

She'd know her babies better than anyone. She'd carried them for nine months and went through torturous labor to bring them into the world. She knew them _literally _inside out.

Like how, despite the fact that Timmy was a certified genius, he still believed in magic. The small boy fawned over Harry Potter since he could read and often mused over the possibility of attending Hogwarts one day. When he was told that magic and Hogwarts were nonexistent at the age of four, Timmy had plainly retorted: "Spell-check agrees that magic and Hogwarts are real words, so why aren't they considered real?" That answer would've been surprising if not for his I.Q of 243.

Even at twelve, Timothy (as he preferred to be called) was a proud owner of an owl named Hedwig and still read Harry Potter to bed every night.

Andy was more realistic.

Her youngest son was always going through physics and mechanics in his head, at least according to him.

But Charlotte long noticed his longing stare as Stella practiced on her guitar with effortless passion since the age of ten. Stella teasingly asked her little brother when he was six if he'd like a lesson on her favorite instrument, Andy's pale complexion turned crimson. "No! Why would I? It's just a stupid guitar!"

Stella was, to put it lightly, insulted and kept her instruments to herself from then on out. Immediately following that, the barrier between her brother's intelligence and her virtuoso was built and neither would cross each other's path.

Neither the youngest nor the oldest Yamada child were very forgiving and so Andy's longing gaze turned painful as Stella's strumming created melody upon melody with ease.

Charlotte of course defused as much as she could, but Andy seemed almost ashamed for his secret love of music.

As a mother, Charlotte wouldn't stand for it.

At age twelve, Drew (as he preferred to be called) was given music lessons on any instrument he wanted. It turned out that Drew was tone-deaf and he was simply trying to figure out how to remedy it throughout his childhood. Charlotte was baffled but repaired the damage well enough with some cookies and a hug.

Her twin boys were sorted out easily enough. As long as they were fed, clothed and given something new to take apart and put back together, they were happy.

After they hit puberty, Charlotte's husband would take the lead and make sure her boys stayed off the drugs, booze and the prison cells. Sons were easily sorted.

Unfortunately daughters were not.

Daughters wanted to be made princesses, given crowns, served hand and foot, praised and adored like a prized piece of art. Girls were constantly looking for their happily ever afters and their beloved Prince Charmings.

Charlotte was thankful she only had one daughter to worry about.

Not, that she didn't love Stella; but dealing with her daughter's stubbornness, increased moodiness and continuous production of hormones, Charlotte was exhausted. It didn't help that her daughter was quite the troublemaker and happened to be in possession of a big mouth and an attitude.

Having a daughter was a constant struggle of female problems, unexplained emotional rollercoasters and the increased chance of getting on her nerves for simply existing. Yes that was an issue when it came to having daughters, and that was the price girls paid for being born girls.

Sometimes Stella hated being born a girl too, but for a completely different reason.

His name was Ray Beech.

"He's such an asshole," she complained to her mother, pacing back in forth in the kitchen as her mother made dinner.

"Oh, what happened now?"

One part of a mother's job was to be a supportive, sympathetic ear and offer advice when needed. That part was played quite often when the Beech boy was brought into conversation.

"They had cheerleading try-outs at school today."

Charlotte's brow arched. "And you tried out?"

"Yes!"

The blonde woman was flabbergasted. Her half-Asian daughter was a rockstar, a revolutionary, a troublemaker; everything _but_ a cheerleader. In fact, Charlotte was sure that Stella bullied cheerleaders in one of her old schools. Now why on earth would she suddenly decide to become one?

The guitarist, seemingly having read her mind elaborated in an annoyed voice, "Ray had to go on about how I wasn't good enough to be a cheerleader."

"What did he say exactly?"

"I wasn't coordinated enough, that I wasn't tall enough, not peppy enough, not pretty enough," Stella answered with a huff as she leaned against the counter, grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and chewed savagely into it.

Ah, so that's what it was about…

"So were you coordinated enough?" Charlotte asked, stirring the stew counterclockwise with a silver ladle.

"Of course," her daughter answered; mouth full with bits of apple. "I did a freaking somersault and landed in a handstand and ended with one of those on-your-knees Her-key things." Stella waved a hand dismissively as she continued to chomp on the red fruit.

Charlotte nodded in understanding.

The amount of athleticism her daughter actually possessed was quite surprising, considering how petite she was. But Stella did gymnastics when she was younger and did a lot of sports as a kid before deciding that with all the moving she did, her music was the only thing reliable enough to get her through high school.

"What about the height? Was that an issue?"

"No, they actually don't care how tall you are. Just how much you weight," Stella claimed with a roll of her eyes. "Apparently you either have to be light enough so people can carry you on their shoulders or heavy enough that you can carry someone on yours."

"And which were you?" Charlotte asked in amusement.

"Ha-ha mom," she answered in a deadpan.

Chuckling softly, Charlotte took a sip of the broth before grabbing the pepper from the cupboard and asking, "Well what about the team spirit? I know you aren't into that sort of thing…"

"Maybe not, but I _am _a rockstar after all," Stella said with a smirk. "I have a natural talent for getting a crowd going. I don't have the pep-factor but I do have the rockstar-factor and that's just as good, if not better."

"So which was it?"

"Better of course, come on mom, have more faith in me!"

Charlotte chuckled again. "And what about the last one, didn't Ray say something about you not being pretty enough to be a cheerleader?"

Stella snorted. "He wasn't saying that when I got my uniform," she stated, her smirk widening. "I swear I saw him drooling, check me out!" Quickly removing her phone from her jeans' pocket, Stella scrolled through the pictures before leaving one on display for her mother to see.

As Stella's mother, Charlotte knew a few things about her that were made pretty obvious a long time ago. One of those things was refusing to wear anything that didn't cover the knee and wearing things that were either too tight or revealing, or heaven forbid: both. When Stella first started out in high school, she was very aware of the social order of an ordinary high school. Jocks and cheerleaders were usually the top of the food chain. As a natural rebel, Stella despised anything to do with the top of the food chain, look at her now!

The girl in the photo looked like Stella, but the cheerleading uniform threw Charlotte off immensely.

Stella's cropped locks were hanging loose on her shoulders, falling in gentle waves over one shoulder and down her back on another. Her petite frame was wrapped in the blue and white Mesa High colors, the flared skirt just barely reaching her thigh and the bodice of the uniform hugging and accenting her womanly curves.

But the girl was still Stella.

Instead of the blue and white shoes that the rest of the cheerleaders seemed to be wearing, Stella wore her usual black and white Converse, the hand-drawn Lemon on the side of the shoe clearly displayed in yellow and red. The secret socks that the cheerleaders also seemed to be wearing, was replaced by half-calf black and white socks while the sleeveless top part of the uniform was covered partially by Stella's favorite faux leather jacket that gave the preppy white and blue uniform a Biker edge.

"I bet he thinks you're pretty now," Charlotte commented, noting the attractive flush of color that was barely fading across her daughter's cheeks and the bright flare of her bright chestnut colored eyes.

"He should," she agreed with a firm nod of her head.

"So you're a cheerleader now I take it?"

"Yep, but that's not important, I proved that idiot soccer player that I am _definitely _good enough to be a cheerleader!"

"And now you are one, congrats honey," Charlotte said pleasantly, trying not to outwardly point out the obvious fact staring her in the face. "So what did your friends think?"

"Oh they don't know yet."

"So who was there to support you when you were trying out?"

"No one, just Ray. I didn't have time to call for back-up," Stella said carelessly.

How strange, Charlotte thought in amusement. Stella never did anything without her friends simply because she'd never had best friends before and she liked being with them and getting to know them more. Any chance she got to hang out with any or all of them she'd jump to.

Now, as far as Charlotte knew, all of Stella's friends were staying after school for activities.

Mo was tutoring for extra credit. Scott and Charlie were at soccer practice (with Charlie as water-boy…he still couldn't play to save his life). Wen was having piano practice in the new auditorium while Olivia was in the library. And Charlotte knew for a fact that all of them would drop what they were doing to help out her daughter. So why didn't Stella call?

"Sweetie, can I just make something clear?"

"Sure mom, what's up?"

"I thought you hated cheerleaders?"

"I do."

"But you are one now…"

"Yeah well, Ray said I couldn't so I had to prove him wrong!"

"So you joined an activity that you hate just so you can prove him wrong?"

She nodded. "Yeah, and it's a bonus for me because I get to rub it in his fangirls' faces. Plus, I get to taunt him more often now."

Charlotte felt the smile threatening to break through her face and at the expression, Stella asked, "What are you getting at?'

"Sweetie, I think you may sort of like Ray."

"Ew mom, he has cooties!" Stella replied, making a face. "But seriously, no," she deadpanned, a light blush rising from her neck and gently dusting her ears and cheeks. "Why would you think that?"

"Well," Charlotte began, stretching out each letter, "You did something you wouldn't normally do, for him. You did a gymnastics trick to become a cheerleader, for him. You wanted to prove you were good enough, to him. You personalized a uniform so you'd look good, for him. By agreeing to become a cheerleader, you agree to work together with people you dislike, for him. By becoming a cheerleader, you agree to support the school and ultimately, him. And you became a cheerleader, for him!"

"What no way mom, you're reading into this too much!" Stella denied, as her mother knew she would. She was Stella after all, and being stubborn was a natural reaction.

"Alright, whatever you say dear," Charlotte replied.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Stella paused, shook her head and muttered something incoherent before her phone rang. The teenager fished her phone out of her pocket and answered, "Hello?"

The one-sided conversation began in the fashion of insults and curse-words.

A few muttered words into the device later, Stella pressed the receiver against her chest and excused herself, "Sorry mom, I'm gonna take care of this _idiot_ (she pulled the phone away from her chest slightly before pushing it back down) and assure him that I did in fact become a cheerleader." The half-Asian guitarist waltzed out the kitchen, phone now pressed against her ear as she spoke.

Automatically the word: Ray Beech sprang up in Charlotte's mind. She chuckled to herself.

Ray Beech had always been a thorn in Stella's side. But was also the reason why Stella didn't withdraw within herself as she usually did when they moved. Ray kept her going, distracting her and keeping her from anything even resembling depression. Stella was too busy fighting him and proving him wrong that she didn't have time to wallow in self-pity.

The two hard-headed teenagers may be rivals or enemies, whatever the case may be, but the effect he had on her was so positive that Charlotte wouldn't doubt that this feud was nothing more than misplaced attraction, or even the result of denied attraction.

Whichever it may be, Charlotte was sure that as long as Ray was in Stella's life, the quiet and routine that always suffocated her would disappear.

After all. The blonde soccer player and rival front-man got her to become a cheerleader of all things. If he could achieve that, then he was pretty much a superhero.

A sudden scream shook her from her thoughts, Charlotte looked up. "Stella's what's wrong?"

The streaked haired teenager ran back into the kitchen, her phone in her hand, her mouth a gap and her eyes wide with shock.

Charlotte dropped the ladle and grabbed Stella by the shoulders, shaking her slightly.

"Stell, what's wrong?"

"I'm a cheerleader!"

From the speaker on Stella's phone, Ray's laughter could be heard. Like a villain getting away with murder. In this case, he definitely had.

Well, Charlotte thought with another chuckle, at least if Stella gave him hell, he could give it in return.

Looks like Stella finally found her Prince Charming. Even if he happened to be more Black Knight than Batman.

**FINIS**

**Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against cheerleaders. In South Africa we don't have cheerleaders at high school level; we have Drummies which is something completely different. **

**Anyway. **

**Sorry for the lack of one-shots, school has been super hectic and frankly I've been too exhausted and lacking inspiration to do much of anything. I'm too busy seeing the empirical formula and the molecular formula and all that random crap to see anything else. Sigh. **

**Your reviews would be amazing…**

**Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed**

Ella


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